


The Bitter End: A Finale in Seven Parts

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, pre-DH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-20
Updated: 2007-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate ending for the Potter series, written before Deathly Hallows was released.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bitter End: A Finale in Seven Parts

**Author's Note:**

> The characters and world of Harry Potter are owned by JK Rowling; no infringement is intended and I'm making no money off of this.
> 
> This was written in response to Set2Music prompts (listed below). Adding it to my archive here.
> 
>  **Prompts:**  
>  #44 Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you  
> #13 My sins have come to have me, I can feel it  
> #29 It's your fate, but it's not your fault  
> #50 With all I ever wanted, it comes with a price  
> #37 From sunshine and vanilla to the raven tones of rage  
> #42 I stole away and cried  
> #31 There's no ending when we die

**Part 1: Prepare the Pyre**   
_Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you_

Neville hated the Mirror of Erised. He had learned, the first time he saw it, that it didn't show the thing you most desired that you could obtain. It delved deep into the heart to pick out that secret thing you wanted that there was no hope of ever finding. And yet, it was one of Harry's favorite places as the end approached, and so Neville tried to step quietly as he entered the room, hoping to throw the cloth over the mirror before he caught a glimpse of his own truth within it.

Too late. Harry must have heard him, turning as he did so, showing Neville a sliver of reflection in the background, of himself and Harry and... he caught up the cloth and quickly tossed it over. He offered a weak smile, accepting the one Harry gave in return.

"It's time?" Harry asked.

The words were bitter on his lips, but had to be said. "It's time." Neville ducked his head, scrubbing at the hair at his nape. "Er. Hermione's done every calculation she can do, and as best she can tell, everything aligns tonight. She says the last bit of her plan is in place, and the only thing left to have is faith that we all play our parts."

Long silence stretched between them. Neville couldn't count the times they'd sat in this room, going over the Prophecy, trying out different interpretations. Those few lines had ruled their lives since Harry had told him of it, and in the end, the plan they had for tonight was the best they'd come up with.

Harry looked at him, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Neville tried not to flinch at the touch. Instead he matched him gaze for gaze. "You don't have to do this," Harry told him.

"I know," Neville said quietly. He thought of Luna and the life they hoped to have together. Of the ring in his pocket, for when this was over, if he survived. A slim hope, he knew. Moisture flooded his eyes, and he glanced at the cloth over the mirror.

Then he reached out a tugged the cloth free, looking full on into the glass for the first time, taking in the image there, before turning to tug Harry into a rough hug, clapping him on the back and then letting him go. "I know," he repeated. "But I will."

And with that he turned and walked out with Harry, leaving the images of the mirror behind.

#

 **Part 2: Fuel Upon the Fire**   
_My sins have come to have me, I can feel it_

Draco had tested the wards on the room before he apparated in with careful silence. "You summoned, mudblood?" By the time she turned around he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head cocked in an air of nonchalant repose.

She looked at him with those clear eyes, blinking only once. "I did, Draco, and you came." She didn't seem surprised at his presence, only business-like as she took papers from a sidetable. "And after this all debts are discharged. That should please you. It can't be pleasant being beholden to a _mudblood_."

He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Granger."

She didn't respond, carefully laying papers out upon the table, one after the other in specific order. "I'm not asking much of you, Draco. All you need to do is ensure he'll be there."

She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, and he resisted moving forward to do so for her. To pull the hair back from her neck and find that spot at her nape where he remembered so clearly she had...

"Draco!" Her tone was sharp as she turned on him. "Pay attention. This is important."

"As if I didn't know, Granger." He reeled off the plan, memory perfect as it always was. She moved in next to him, watching as he gestured to points on the maps, and stood close enough that he could inhale her scent. "And in the end, your precious Potter destroys the Dark Lord and the world goes on in a scent of roses and daffodils." The scent of her hair, the night she had saved his life.

She gave him a sharp look. "It was one night, Malfoy."

He gave in to impulse, irritated at his inability to leave that hair alone, at his _need_ to touch this mudblood. At the craving to have her one more time. "There might not be another, Hermione," he said quietly as he lifted her hair, pressed one hand flat against the nape of her neck. Felt her shiver beneath his touch until she shrugged him off.

"Oh, stop that, Draco. Negativity will get us nowhere at this point."

He released her and bowed low, a mocking smile upon his lips. "Then may my sins be our salvation." As he came up, the Dark Mark flashed on his forearm, a grave reminder of his betrayal. He smirked at the catch of her breath, at the worry and fear in her expression. "And when we survive, I'll expect one more night. If not more."

He disappeared before she managed to say a word.

#

 **Part 3: Bind the Body to the Pole**   
_It's your fate, but it's not your fault_

"I know you're not happy about this plan, Harry, but as best I can determine, it is the one which has the best chance of success." Hermione bustled about, making certain that everything was ready. Potion in its bottle. Clothes readied. Glasses without true lenses in them. There was nothing else she could do about the parts of the plan out of her hands (save try _not_ to think about Draco any more than she really had to, after all, it _was_ only one night, and she was banking on that to keep him safely in their court and betraying his lord and master). Still, no time for regrets, the plan was set and the only direction to go was forward.

She carefully slid Harry's wand into her pocket. "Ronald's upset. Neville's upset. Ginny hasn't stopped crying for the last hour, and I can't think how you'll hear a thing over her. And Luna..." that gave Hermione pause. "Well, I've never seen her quite so _quiet_. She hasn't even offered an alternative plan, involving narguls or some other such nonsense."

Harry sat silently as well, his head in his hands and not even looking at Hermione. She sighed, and walked over to sit next to him, one hand resting on his back. "Harry."

When he glanced at her, she smiled softly at him. "We've been friends since we were eleven, and we're going to be here for you in the end. Stop thinking you ought to go it alone. No," she raised a fingertip, "I can see it in your eyes, and you're being an absolute idiot to think about it. So stop thinking it. Neville volunteered for this, as did we all. You keep trying to push us away and we keep coming back, Harry. We love you, don't you see that after all these years?"

She slid her arm about his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek, ending up leaning against him comfortably. "It's all worth it, in the end, that it be finally over."

"It's my fault," he murmured, voice muffled by her chaotic hair.

She shook her head. "Don't you ever say that, Harry Potter. Whatever the Prophecy tied you into, and it's only luck to be you and not Neville, it's not your fault. You've done everything you can to save us. We just refuse to be saved without you."

She gave him one last hug then stood, brusquely businesslike again. "Now, the best way to make sure we all get through this is to get it done without sobbing beforehand. So let's go, Harry. We've a war to end."

#

 **Part 4: Burn, Burn, Burn**   
_With all I ever wanted, it comes with a price_

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Neville fall.

The bright flash of green froze time in his mind, fixing everyone upon the battlefield. Draco by Voldemort's side, with Death Eaters all around, visages hidden beneath their cloaks and masks. Hermione and Ron standing close by Neville, and Neville clothed in Harry's form, with Harry's wand. Luna and Ginny waiting in the wings with Harry himself; the second string hiding under the invisibility cloak.

A simple plan. Too simple, perhaps, but the time was right as far as Hermione could tell. The Prophecy was now.

Time snapped into motion again as he screamed, " _Accio!_ " and his wand flew to his hand. No time for thought, simply pointed it at Voldemort, the curse coming from his lips as if he'd practiced it a thousand times. As if it didn't kill him just to say the words.

And Voldemort cast as well, the two wands aimed at each other. Harry felt the vibration in his hand, felt his wand _recognize_ the other somehow, resonate with the spell. He couldn't see the fight around him, couldn't see anything but the hideous wizard before him.

He closed, as if that might give his spell an edge, and Voldemort closed as well, bringing the two of them almost near enough to touch. Wands outstretched, spells entangled, teeth gritted with the effort, neither willing to give ground.

A shrill whistle caught his ear, strange song but familiar. Flames from the tips of their wands, burning his hand but he wouldn't let it go, couldn't before this ended. He'd bought his moment, bought the time for his surprise, and the time was _now_.

Flickers burst into feathered flames, engulfing them both. He felt something in the wand _give_ and it exploded in his hand, Voldemort's shattering into a thousand shards at the same time.

"Fawkes," he breathed the name, arms out, embracing his fate as he saw Voldemort's rage consumed by fire.

And then there were nothing but the flames.

#

 **Part 5: Fan the Flames**   
_From sunshine and vanilla to the raven tones of rage_

Luna knelt in hiding, Ginny's warmth pressing against her on one side, Harry on the other. They'd fit her smaller form between them, letting the folds of the cloak slide down over her head, almost obscuring her view entirely. They were trying to protect her, she knew. After all, she knew the plan, and she had spoken to Neville of it at length.

Just that morning he had kissed her goodbye and gone off to find Harry. There had been no more time for talk. No time for sharing of secrets, for remembrances, for any soft words. Just goodbye that morning, and a hope that whatever might protect him would indeed do so.

It happened when she blinked. Her eyes flickered open as the green flash faded from the skies. As Neville crumpled like a doll discarded, a slump of robes upon the ground. Luna heard Harry's voice, felt as the cloak was thrust off of them and Ginny tugged her away. The battle was on and her wand was in her hand.

All she could see was Neville lying there. Flashes of memories brought tears to her eyes, misting her view of the Death Eaters who stood between her and him. She saw his nervous smile when he kissed her for the first time beneath the arbor, and growled out a hex at the cloaked man in front of her, satisfied when he fell. For each sweet and soft memory, another hex, another curse, felling or pushing aside the Death Eaters in her way and blocking her from the one thing she needed to do. Fury came from thoughts of pleasure, driving her hard as she cut through the crowd and dropped to her knees by Neville's side.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Faith hadn't been enough, and she'd been so sure that when this battle ended they would both be standing. That there would be time to tell him her news, to see his eyes light with joy.

But time had ended, and instead of celebrating life, Luna crouched by Neville's side and brought death to the Death Eaters.

#

 **Part 6: The Scent of Smoke**   
_I stole away and cried_

It couldn't be true.

Ron lay upon the ground, the heavy scent of burnt flesh and wet ash in his nose. The reek was engraved upon his mind and he knew he would never forget it.

This was what it smelled like when love died.

He saw Ginny on her knees, near the center of the burn, crouched as if she sought something. Luna lay with one hand on Neville's chest, crooning something he couldn't hear. Hermione sat with Draco, wrapping a bandage about a hand that was no longer there.

Ron lay there, alone, wondering when he'd be able to hear again.

He pushed himself to his knees first, then his feet. One cautious step told him his knee was as bad as it looked, a cracked mass of wreckage that might heal if he were to see a healer soon enough. Not something he could walk upon. Unnoticed by the others, he fell back to the ground with a silent grunt.

And then he crawled, pulling himself away from the ragged stain of the burn. Away from the unheard tears, from the bodies of Death Eaters hidden by puddles of black robes. He didn't want to know who was there, who had died. Only one person mattered.

He found a place at the side of the battlefield and finally stopped, breathing in clean air with a desperation to force the scent from his lungs. He closed his eyes, squeezing out tears. A ragged gulp caught in his throat, then tears washed over him. Every memory, every thing that they had done since that first meeting on the train.

Everything that was Harry.

It was over, and Ron cried alone.

#

 **Part 7: From the Ashes**   
_There's no ending when we die_

Ginny knelt amongst the ashes, pushing her hands forward through the soft grit, lifting it and watching it sift back through her fingers to the ground. The heavy scent filled her nose, made her sneeze with each soft breath lifting scattered ashes into the air. She sat back a moment, conjuring a handkerchief with soot-covered hands, and wrapped it around her face to help her breathe more easily.

Luna's tuneless crooning filled her ears, tugging at her heart with sorrow for a friend's loss. She glanced over, just barely seeing the other girl lying there, half speaking, half singing, to Neville's corpse. Resolutely, she turned back.

At least Luna had a corpse to kiss goodbye. He'd refused her farewell before they came here. Refused to say goodbye in hopes that it wouldn't be. Or else to stay the hurt; she wasn't sure which way he'd meant it. But in the end, she was cheated of that one last thing, and she ached all the more for it.

She crawled on hands and knees, ash covering her in thin coat first, growing thicker as she moved through it. She couldn't say what she sought until she found it, fingers closing over the one thing that was not ash. She sat back on her heels, pushing her hair back from her face and leaving a stripe of dark upon her cheek.

This one thing. Bright plumage in her hands, the narrow core sliding up into brilliant fronds. A single feather, a tail feather she believed, whole and unharmed.

She started to smile, pulling it in and hugging it to her chest. It was only one feather, but who knew what else might someday rise from the ashes. And some days, all a girl needed was hope.


End file.
